Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘I ’M GOING to be stuck in London on business until New Year’s Day,’ Jace’s voice murmured in Cassie’s ear, his soap-slicked hands cupping her heavy breasts and lazily teasing the nipples with his thumbs. ‘Have you got any plans for the Christmas period?’

A little shocked by the renewed jolt of heat, and a lot more shocked by the casual enquiry, Cassie shifted in his lap, feeling the heavy arousal nestled between her legs, and her heart leapt into her throat.

After they’d soaped each other into a frenzy, he’d insisted she sit on the edge of the huge tub so he could take her into his mouth. She’d never felt anything so exquisite in her life before, the rough, expert play of his tongue on her sensitised clitoris quickly becoming more than she could bear. But when she’d come down from the intense high, the look of satisfaction on his face had made her feel ever so slightly vulnerable.

She was feeling a lot more vulnerable now.

‘Why do you ask?’ And why had her heart just rocketed into her throat at his question? He couldn’t be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Could he? That they should extend their one-night fling?

He rubbed his palms over the rigid peaks and chuckled when a moan slipped out. ‘Because I want more time to play with you while I’m here. One night isn’t going to be enough.’

There it was again, the smug tone of voice—and the bump of her heart in her throat.

‘The water’s getting cold,’ she said, levering herself out of his lap.

But before she could climb out, his large hands bracketed her hips, holding her in place. ‘Why didn’t you answer my question?’ he said as she glanced over her shoulder.

He didn’t look hurt or offended. Why would he? But even so she couldn’t quite bring herself to give him a straight answer. The desire to say yes to his suggestion was so powerful, she knew it had to be a bad idea.

She wasn’t the naive little twit she’d been for the first twenty-seven years of her life. She’d turned a corner in the last ten months and she would never go back to that. Believing all the empty promises her father had told her as a child, only to be left devastated when he never lived up to any of them. Or falling for David at art college, only to be told she wasn’t what he was looking for. Or, worst of all, accepting a proposal from a man who, during the whole three years he’d bunked at her flat while he was ‘between jobs’, she now suspected had never been faithful to her.

But while she knew she had finally learned her lesson with Lance—that men were about as reliable as the electrical appliances you bought from a door-to-door salesman—she wasn’t at all happy about the way her heart was leaping about in her chest. Just as it had done all those years ago when her father had rung up from Tokyo or Rome or San Francisco to tell her he’d definitely see her that weekend … Or when Lance had got down on one knee on the tiny balcony of her flat on Valentine’s Day and asked her to marry him …

She wasn’t a sucker any more, but was she completely cured? And did she really want to put her new, cynical self to the test with a man like Jace? Especially at Christmas time, when losing your grip on reality was practically a requirement of the season?

Crossing her arms over her bare breasts, she wriggled out of his grip and stepped out of the tub.

‘Hey, come back here. You haven’t given me an answer,’ he said.

Grabbing a large fluffy white towel from the neatly folded pile on the vanity, she wrapped it round her dripping body.

‘Why don’t we talk about it later?’ she offered. ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing over the next week or so,’ she added, glad she sounded so blasé when she didn’t feel blasé. She secured the towel over her breasts and glanced back, fluttering her eyelashes for all she was worth. ‘And I thought you promised me more really amazing sex?’ she said, deciding that flirtation was the best defence.

She heard the splash as he followed her out of the tub. And gulped as she watched him in the mirror, her eyes devouring the sight of his naked body, glistening wet. His arm reached over her to grab another towel.

‘Are you trying to distract me?’ he murmured against her hair as she watched his reflection hook the towel around his waist.

‘Is it working?’ she asked, tilting her head to see the hot look on his face.

His hands circled her waist, tugged her back against his chest. ‘What do you think?’

Arousal charged through her system as the feel of something hard and insistent butted against her bottom through the layers of towelling. ‘Yes,’ she murmured.

Turning her in his arms, he gripped the top of her towel in his fist. ‘You know, you’re a much badder girl than I gave you credit for.’

‘Bad is more fun, remember,’ she quipped back. ‘You said so yourself.’

‘So I did.’ He pressed his lips to hers, distracting her, while he loosened her towel with a quick tug. ‘But from now on there are rules.’

‘Rules?’ She grasped the fist he had on her towel with both hands as the knot slipped. ‘What rules?’

‘For starters—’ he manacled her wrists in one hand, lifted her fingers to his lips, forcing her to let go of his fist, then whipped her towel off with the other ‘—I want you naked.’

‘Oh,’ she said, the blush spreading up her neck at the wicked grin on his face as her towel dropped to her feet. ‘Well, fine,’ she said, wrestling her hands free from his grasp. ‘But I happen to believe in women’s rights.’ She slid her hands under his towel and yanked it free. ‘Which means the same goes for you.’

He laughed, not remotely embarrassed by the powerful erection standing up against his belly. ‘Good thing I happen to be a firm believer in women’s rights,’ he said playfully, then grabbed her and hoisted her onto his shoulder. She shrieked, kicked, giggled, but didn’t struggle too hard, distracted somewhat by the upsidedown view of a very nice male behind.

‘Or you’d be in serious trouble now,’ he finished as he marched her into the bedroom. Tossing her onto the bed, he climbed up after her, the wicked gleam in his eye so full of purpose she wondered if she ought to make a run for it.

His hand gripped her ankle and he dragged her beneath him before she could make up her mind. ‘But I’m still going to want an answer.’ Cupping her hips, he cradled the thick erection against her belly. ‘Eventually.’

‘I’ll give you an answer later.’ She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, let her fingers caress the strong column of his neck and fist in the hair at his nape as he sheathed himself efficiently with the condom.

Much later.

She couldn’t think about his suggestion now, couldn’t let it ruin the rush of excitement tingling along her skin.

He grasped her hips, and she lifted up, taking his mouth in a seeking kiss. He eased into her as his tongue thrust, the penetration so deep it took her breath away. Pleasure blindsided her as he rocked in short, sharp, devastating thrusts. She built to peak with startling speed, the fanciful leap of her heartbeat, the questions racing in her head, lost in the roar of ecstasy.

‘About the next week or so.’ Jace brushed the flat of his hand over the curve of her bottom, struggling to focus his mind and sound nonchalant while his body was still humming. ‘What’s your answer?’

‘Hmm?’ Her soft breasts snuggled against his side as her nose pressed into his neck and her hand rested against his chest.

He hoped to hell she couldn’t feel the way his heart was battering his ribs.

‘I want to do more of this.’ He turned his head, placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘How about you?’ he finished, a little surprised he was having to press the point.

Why hadn’t she already leapt at the chance to have an affair with him?

Suggesting it had seemed like little more than a formality in the bath, given the way she’d responded to him so far. Damn it, she’d nearly passed out when he’d put his mouth on her—and watching her come apart like that had been exquisitely arousing. But instead of agreeing to the suggestion, she’d been instantly evasive, just like when he’d asked her about her past over dinner. And he’d had to face the unthinkable prospect that she might say no.

He wasn’t so arrogant as to believe every woman wanted to jump into bed with him, but the sexual chemistry between them was explosive. Any fool could see that. She wanted him all right. She wanted him a lot. So why had she refused to give him a straight answer? Was there some problem he wasn’t seeing? And why had the thought that there was a problem piqued his curiosity about her even more? Usually if a woman put up any resistance he backed off instantly. But with her he couldn’t seem to let it go.

It had been a long time since he’d been stupid enough to let his sex drive dictate his actions. But even knowing he should probably back off, he knew he wasn’t going to.

He had close to two weeks in London to meet a series of European buyers and deal with his ex-wife’s solicitors—so he could sell Artisan and finally shove the skeletons of his past back in the closet they had lurched out of and forget about them for good.

For a man who had spent the last fourteen years of his life working eighteen- to twenty-hour days—and playing pretty hard in the hours that were left—the next thirteen days spread out before him like a long, slow canter into extreme boredom. The fact that it was Christmas wasn’t a big help either.

He wasn’t a fan of the festive season. All that false bonhomie and conspicuous consumption got on his nerves—and having to endure it in the place he’d struggled so hard to get out of was going to add a nice thick layer of irritability to his aversion. Sure, the five-star luxury of The Chesterton was a far cry from the cramped council flat in Shepherd’s Bush where he’d grown up—which was the main reason he’d booked the best suite here, the difference proving to him just how far he’d come from that unhappy troublesome kid—but he’d left this city for a reason, and being forced back here by Helen and her recent interference in the company hadn’t improved his disposition one bit.

Until Cassie had leapt into his car with an indignant scowl on her cute face and those deliciously full breasts spilling out of her drenched coat.

He gripped her waist and jostled her slightly. ‘So, Cassidy, what’s it to be?’ he murmured into her hair, her enticing cinnamon scent made even more tempting mixed with the fresh scent of the hotel’s vanilla soap. He imagined all the fun they could have together as he waited for her to reply, ready to do some serious persuasion if she didn’t give him the answer he wanted.

The next two weeks would be the opposite of boring with Cassie in his bed. So he wasn’t about to let her give him some lame excuse. A grin split his features, and luckily she happened to be uniquely susceptible to his powers of persuasion.

Having taken a moment to mull that satisfying fact over in his head, he tilted his chin down to peer into her face. And the smug smile vanished.

Her eyelashes touched the flushed skin of her cheeks while the steady murmur of her breathing brushed against his collarbone.

He cursed under his breath. Unreal. She’d only gone and fallen fast asleep on him.

CHAPTER NINE

SEDUCTIVE, intensely erotic images swirled in Cassie’s head as she drifted out of a dream-filled sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open and the fierce tug of arousal pulsing in her sex intensified as she became aware of the muscular forearm banded under her breasts. Deep, even breathing brushed the top of her head and a warm body pressed against her back.

Jace.

She blinked at the thin winter sunlight gilding the opulent furnishings of his hotel suite and shifted slightly, the tenderness between her thighs so acute it was almost as if he were still lodged inside her. A hot flush swept through her as the erotic images from her dream recurred in vivid detail. And she realised they weren’t dreams at all, but memories.

She tensed as Jace’s sleep-roughened murmur made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. His arm tightened briefly under her breasts and then relaxed back into sleep.

Waiting a minute to make sure he was completely asleep, she took a moment to enjoy the feel of being wrapped so securely in his embrace.

A wistful smile curled her lips. So Jace Ryan was a snuggler? Who would have thought it?

Dispelling the thought and the tightening in her chest that accompanied it, she scooted over in incremental movements, then gingerly lifted his arm from around her waist and placed it behind her.

He grunted, and she sucked in a breath, praying he wouldn’t wake up.

Then he flopped over onto his back, taking the sheet with him, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. She twisted round, then hesitated, momentarily mesmerised by the handsome face thrown into sharp relief by the morning sunlight peeking through the room’s heavy velvet curtains. With his jaw shadowed by morning stubble, the thick locks of hair falling across his brow and that magnificent body bare right down to the springy curls of hair that peeked above the sheet draped low on his hips, it took Cassie a moment to catch her breath.

He had to be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And he’d been all hers for the wildest night of her life. She forced herself to look away and climb off the bed as carefully as possible so as not to wake him.

The night was over now and she needed to go home. He’d asked her about extending their fling, and as much as she yearned to wake him up and accept the offer she wasn’t going to. She couldn’t take the risk. While she might want to believe she could be smart and sensible about a brief fling with Jace and just concentrate on enjoying lots of really amazing sex for the next week or so, she didn’t entirely trust herself. Those silly clutches in her heartbeat, last night and this morning, were proof that her delusional tendencies hadn’t quite died the death she’d hoped in the last nine months … And she wasn’t ready yet to tempt fate with someone as devastating as Jace Ryan.

It was cowardly and fairly pathetic, but she could live with that. What she couldn’t live with was the thought of making a fool of herself all over again with yet another man who had nothing to offer her. Her brow creased as the pulse of awareness rippled across her nerve endings.

Well, apart from lots of really amazing sex, that is.

She gathered up her tunic and underwear from the other side of the room, determined not to give in to the tempting thought. But she couldn’t quite resist returning to the bedside to study him while he slept as she slipped on her clothing.

As she sat in the chair by the bed, and rolled on the luxury silk tights he’d bought her, it occurred to her that, unlike the other men she’d known, Jace didn’t look any more vulnerable in sleep than he did when he was awake.

Was that part of his allure? she wondered. Was that the quality that had made him so irresistible last night but made her so wary of him in the cold light of morning? That, unlike her, he seemed so sure of himself? So controlled? Even in the throes of lovemaking, at the height of passion, he hadn’t lost the commanding, almost ruthless self-confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted out of life. And was more than prepared to do whatever he had to do to get it.

Standing up, she smoothed damp palms down the beaded tunic, then leant over the bed and pressed the lightest of kisses to the rough stubble on his cheek. The tantalising musk of vanilla soap and man filled her senses.

‘Goodbye, Jace,’ she whispered.

Then she turned and hurried from the room, trying exceptionally hard not to think about missing out on the sexiest, most exhilarating Christmas of her entire life. Or the painful ache under her breastbone that she refused to interpret.

She’d done the smart, sensible thing. She was now officially a grown-up.

Cassie’s ink pen jolted as the doorbell buzzed, sending a thick black line slashing through the Sugar Plum Fairy’s nose and ruining two hours’ work.

She cursed and dropped the pen into the cup she kept at the side of her drawing easel. It was her own stupid fault. She shouldn’t have attempted to design her Christmas cards today. She’d been jumpy ever since she’d got back from the West End, her hormones refusing to settle down despite all her best efforts.

The doorbell buzzed again. Wiping her hands with a washcloth, she got up and walked from her bedroom, through the tiny living room to the front door, ruthlessly quashing the hope that it might be Jace. He didn’t even know where she lived. And anyway, she didn’t want to see him; the endorphin withdrawal he’d caused was quite hard enough to deal with without the added stimulation of seeing him again.

Unlocking the deadbolt, she pulled the door open.

‘Hey there, what’s up?’ Nessa grinned, holding up a grease-spotted bag from the bakery downstairs. ‘I brought apple Danish to bribe you into talking about your new man over morning coffee.’ She breezed past Cassie into the flat, her extensions arranged in corkscrew curls that bobbed around her shoulders as she waltzed into the kitchen.

Cassie stifled a groan. She loved Nessa like a sister. But the last thing she needed right now was to have to relive her wild night with Jace.

‘He’s not my new man,’ she grumbled. Or not any more. She followed Nessa into the snug galley kitchen. ‘And anyway it’s nearly lunchtime,’ she moaned, attempting to redirect the conversation. ‘Pastries will spoil our appetite.’ Not to mention apply several extra pounds to her hips, which she probably didn’t need. A vision of Jace’s ex-wife with her skeletal supermodel figure popped into Cassie’s head.

Correction, which she definitely didn’t need.

Bending to grab Cassie’s coffee jar out of the fridge, Nessa gave a rich chuckle. ‘You’re very grumpy this morning.’ She straightened, shooting Cassie a knowing smile and not looking redirected in the least. ‘Couldn’t be because you didn’t get enough sleep last night?’ She wiggled her eyebrows before ladling coffee into the cafetière. ‘Now could it?’

Cassie sighed and gave up. She knew Nessa. They’d been best friends since their first day at Hillsdown Road when Nessa had got a detention for talking back to the teacher, and Cassie had got one too for giggling at Nessa’s antics.

Nessa loved to share and discuss. She adored girl talk. And she was like a Rottweiler with a T-bone when it came to talking about sex. No way would she let the subject of Cassie’s wild night drop until she’d got all the juicy details.

‘Fine, all right.’ Cassie grabbed the kettle, held it over the sink and wrenched on the tap. ‘You got me. I did the wild thing with Jace Ryan last night.’

Nessa gave a deep chortle. ‘I knew it.’

‘How?’ Cassie asked as she plonked the kettle onto its stand and flicked the switch on. Surely it couldn’t be that obvious?